


Always Another Dawn

by AnnetheCatDetective



Series: Defiantverse [3]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What to do when it's all over...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soldiers Without Uniforms

**Author's Note:**

> There are hints of other pairings, especially if you squint. Again, the POV is Spy's, in first person, and there are OCs (none of whom deviate from the class norm).
> 
> Sequel to 'Stolen Kisses', 3rd in the Defiant Ones series.

“See?” I swept my arm towards the closed door of the resupply. There was a severed arm there in the hall that would not disappear. “I think we are being written off.”

“We need an engineer.”

“He can’t fix this.” I shook my head.

“Well, then what do you think we need?”

I led him back up to my bedroom, stopping him with a look before he could comment. “Grab my bedsheet. Then we’ll go find that engineer.”

“I thought you said—“

“Let’s go!” I took one end, and he took the other, following me down the stairs and towards the spot where our usual Engineer tended to set up camp.

“Don’t shoot!” I shouted, before we were in view.

The Engineer was attempting to fix his sentry, one of the pyros standing guard by his dispenser.

“Darn spies an’ your darn disguises...” The Engineer looked between my Sniper and I with a disgruntled expression. “What do you need?”

“We need to be able to speak to everyone. The whole battlefield. Can you do that?”

“Well—Now...” He stopped, pushing his hardhat back and scratching his head. “We haven’t had any commands comin’ through for a good spell, have we?”

The pyro shook his—her?—it’s?—head, then regarded me. “Urr rhh grnrh lrhvh srn?”

“Oh... it’s... you?”

It nodded, with a little affirmative noise.

“We are most definitely going to leave soon.” I assured him. “But we need to be able to stop this.”

“Well, won’t be a thing to rig up a sort of bullhorn, maybe a speaker system right quick, but it’ll be localized, I’m not about to go tromping about all over the goldurn place.”

“No, that would be for the best.” I agreed.

“What’s with the sheet, if you fellas don’t mind me asking?”

“We’ll explain in a moment.” I promised.

“We?” My Sniper elbowed me. “I don’t exactly know, now, do I?”

“In a moment.”

The speakers went up quickly, sentry ignored for the moment, and the Engineer handed me an ersatz microphone.

“Here,” I jerked my head towards the spot where the Engineer’s site overlooked the battleground. “Hang onto the sheet.”

My Sniper did, as I tossed the other end over, where it caught the slight breeze and waved over everything, an enormous white flag. He looked back at the half-finished sentry gun behind us and hit the button on the stolen Cloak and Dagger.

“Pardon...” I tapped the microphone. “Gentlemen! Cease and desist!”

I heard the faint howl of a soldier down below, and the words ‘hippie quitter talk’.

“The respawn has stopped working!”

The gunfire below stopped.

The Engineer, who had just finished repairing his sentry, stopped as well. “What?”

“I repeat; the respawn has stopped working! There has been no word from our respective employers! If they have not decided that this war is over, it is in the best interests of those of us surviving to do so for ourselves. The respawn has stopped working. If you are alive, please meet in the middle of the area for a brief headcount and a summit between the two sides. Do not continue fighting, the respawn has stopped working.”

The four of us shuffled down warily, still carrying the sheet and praying for the best. Slowly but surely, a group amassed.

One BLU medic was already there, though it seemed he had merely been there since the announcement. He was sitting on the ground, staring blankly ahead, leaning against a fallen heavy.

From my own side, aside from myself, the Pyro, the Engineer, and the Medic, we had a Scout, a Soldier, and Stone and the nameless Spy. From the RED side, my own Sniper, a RED Medic—with surviving Heavy—RED Scout, a Demoman. Eight and five.

“Looks like we won.” Soldier said.

“No one is the victor here.” I said bitterly. “Look at us all. Whatever happened, none of us has won.”

“I have a little information.” Spy took a deep breath, a steeling drag on his cigarette. “You gentlemen are perhaps aware of what it is that RED and BLU—rather, Redmond and Blutarch Mann—have wanted to gain control of?”

“Gravel pit.” Soldier offered.

“Beyond that. Something both men were denied, long, long ago. In a twist of fate which might have been amusing, under other circumstances, or with greater distance... I was recently able to discover that our Announcer—the woman who has been giving orders to both sides of this war—has a relationship of sorts with a certain CEO.”

“Redmond Mann?” The Demoman guessed.

“Blutarch Mann?”Soldier was not to be outdone, apparently. He still considered himself the winner in all this, I think, just because there were three more survivors in blue than in red.

“Saxton Hale.” Spy said.

“Australian.” Stone added.

“CEO of Mann Company.” Spy finished. “She has been keeping both Mann men preoccupied with this little war, and Saxton Hale now owns them both. There is no more RED. There is no more BLU. Everything belongs to one man, to one company, in one place. We are no longer necessary. We have been left to kill each other. Forgotten. And the land is worth nothing, he merely owns it because he can.”

“There... there’s no more respawn?” The RED scout looked shaky. “I... I think I’m gonna be sick, man.”

“Go be sick somewhere else, then.” I took a hasty step back from him, just in case.

“I’m serious, here. This is... this is serious. Nobody’s coming back this time, and... and none of the bodies are going away, why aren’t they going away?”

“Stupid boy. You have so much bravado about killing men when it is all just a game with no consequences, and now of course you cannot handle reality.”

“Hey, shut up. You’re the one who came running out here with a giant white flag and yelling at us to stop.”

“Yes. But I am not turning green, like a weak little—“

“Hey, I’m not weak. I’m way more not-weak than you!” More posturing. Yawn... Then again, what else can one expect from these children? “If you were from where I was from—“

“Stupid boy!” I raised my hand to slap him, pulling back only when my Sniper stepped between the scout and myself. I stalked off a few steps.

“Yeah, you better—“

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, and you might consider shutting your face.” My Sniper warned, voice low.

“But— Hey!—I—Yeah, well, nice job stepping in for your girlfriend.”

“My ‘girlfriend’, as you put it, was about to kick your whiny little ankle-biting arse all across this battlefield, if I hadn’t stepped in. Listen, kiddo... you like movies, right?”

“Yeah, guess so. Everyone does.”

“You seen ‘Casablanca’?”

“Uh, part of it, when it was the Sunday afternoon movie once. It was kind of boring, all everyone did was talk.”

“Yeah.” Soldier nodded. “They had a perfectly good movie for killing Nazis in, and they went and made it about the love between a man and a woman! And that’s just sick. Wait... Well, it’s not sick like the love between a man and anything that’s not a woman, but when I see a movie, I expect there to be Nazi-killing!”

“Do you remember anything about the movie aside from the fact that you didn’t have the attention span to sit down and watch it?”

“No.”

“... Well this has gone off the rails.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“If you were from where I was from,” I addressed the RED Scout, my composure regained. “You would have spent your formative years under a hostile occupying force. I was six years old when I underwent my first mission as a spy. And that innocent six-year-old face would not have spared my life had I been caught.”

“Tsch. Like I ever get caught. I woulda done just fine.”

“Really? You think so? Imagine, you are a small child, and suddenly, the streets outside your home are filled with soldiers. The laws have changed—law being a concept you are barely able to grasp as it is—punishments are suddenly much harsher. You are suddenly much poorer. There is no food. If you are lucky, you live in a town that is not bombed, but probably, you are not lucky. Your parents disappear for days on end and they cannot tell your neighbors why, because anyone could be a collaborationist. There is a curfew. If you are old enough to be in school, during the four years that this lasts, you are practically indoctrinated into a cult of personality. You may be expected to speak a new language, and to learn it quickly. Some of your friends disappear and are never seen again, but you probably do not understand why. This is the sole blessing in your life. One day, your mother does not return.”

His lower lip wobbled. “My ma?”

“That is right. Imagine that, petit. Imagine that she goes out, and she cannot tell you where or why, and she never comes home. Your father as well. Many of the people you have always relied upon.”

“Whatever.” He wrapped his arms around himself and turned away. “You’re making that stuff up.”

“He isn’t.” It was a very quiet whisper, from a very subdued RED Medic. The slightly younger one. Aware that he was being stared at, he coughed and looked at the ground. “I actually narrowly escaped arrest once, myself, twenty five-odd years ago. I wasn’t—I was never a national socialist. My family was always social democrat. Well, it’s different. Oh, none of you understand...”

“You nearly got arrested for being a social democrat?”

“No, for—It isn’t important why. Well, not that it was out of the question, even... No. Forget I even spoke. What are we going to do about... about all them?”

The Soldier looked down at the shovel in his hand, then at the mass of bodies—and of parts—scattered around us. “That’s gonna take forever.”

“Well, start digging, then.” The Medic snapped.

“Too many of ‘em to bury.” The Engineer shook his head.

“Rrh crhhd rlrhs...” The Pyro offered, hefting his flamethrower. “Rf rhh cn’ brhrh rm...”

“NO! Ah, no... you couldn’t—so many—No, it’s better to... The smoke, and—Please, don’t?” Even more than speaking of his youthful close call, this rattled the Medic.

“It’s more practical...”

“Please don’t... I can’t, the smoke... the smell. There are too many of them. I don’t mind digging, I’ll help dig. We’ll bury them.” He picked up a discarded shovel from the remains of a dead Soldier’s hand, the blood on the handle didn’t give him a moment’s pause.

The BLU Medic moved for the first time since I had seen him. He touched his hand to his lips, leaving a smear of blood which he licked away absently, looked around the group assembled as though he was only now seeing us. “The respawn is really... it’s really not going to work, ever again?”

“No. Doesn’t look like it is.” The Engineer said, apologetically.

“I see. Yes, thank you. I see. Ah... he will not be needing this?” He bent, picking up a uniform jacket that had once contained a RED Soldier, and now contained only a few little chunks of him. He stood for a moment, looking down at the corpse he had been leaning against. “Excuse me. I will rejoin you in a moment.”

We watched him walk around a corner, the bloodied jacket twisted in his hands. From off in the distance, there was the sound of gunfire.

“HEY! ARE YOU CRAZY?!” My Sniper shouted, waving the sheet again. “DIDN’T YOU HEAR? RESPAWN’S BEEN SHUT OFF! Aw, dammit, who missed the announcement? Did someone shoot your Medic?”

The Engineer’s mouth tightened. “How many times do I gotta tell... aw, boy...”

“What?”

“Sentry. Only one left standing, he...” He looked around the corner, then came back the few steps to rejoin the rest of us. “He walked right into it. Took one of y’all’s uniforms and just, walked right into it...”

The Heavy frowned, touching his own Medic’s shoulder. “Why would other Doktor do this?”

“... I don’t pretend to know.” He lied, his own gaze on the big, blue-clad corpse his fellow medic had been leant against. “War does funny things to a man. Sometimes things become too much to handle.”

“He was like you.” I offered. Almost everyone looked at me as though I were incredibly stupid for pointing out the obvious, but the Medic merely nodded.

“Yes. Yes, I think so. I’m sorry, are you... the cage?”

“Yes. I am sorry, by the way... for what it’s worth. I wouldn’t have noticed, if I wasn’t... well... I just needed you to be angry enough to attack me.”

He laughed humorlessly. “Well, you did that.”

Several of us got to work digging after that, but it was tiring work, and we still didn’t have enough graves for everyone.

“We’ll have to burn some and bury some.” The Engineer said solemnly. “Otherwise we’ll be out here all day and night, and the buzzards are already coming ‘round.”

“Should... should we sing or something?” The BLU Scout asked, toeing the dirt. “Like you do, at funerals?”

There was a brief and solemn pause before voices lifted in song.

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me,” The Engineer surprised us with a rather pleasant baritone.

Which would have been all right, except...

“Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling,” The Demoman warbled, scrumpy spilling out as he waved his arms in dubious time to the ‘music’.

“Allons enfants de la Patrie, Le jour de gloire est arrive!” Spy lowered Jean into one of the shallow graves we had managed to dig.

“When I was a young man I carried my pack, And I lived the free life of a rover, From the Murrays’ green basin--” Stone barely whispered the tune, but he was near enough to us that I heard him, and from the hand tightening in mine, I could freely assume my Sniper had as well.

“Innsbruck, ich muss dich lassen, ich fahr dahin mein Strassen, in fremde Land dahin...”

“Uh, fellas?” The Scout cleared his throat. “How about if we all sang the same song?”

There was a brief conference of a few of the singers, and then a few clear, strong voices.

“Amazing grace, oh Danny Boy, in fremde Land dahin, and the band played Waltzing Matilda, Allons enfants de la Patrie,”

“Well...” My Sniper swallowed oddly, his head twitching to the side. “I mean, Amazing Grace is common signature, innit?”

“That doesn’t make it okay.” I shook my head.

“No. No, I’m sort of...” Stone searched for the words.

“Disgusted?” Spy snorted. “Outraged? Offended?”

“Yeah, those, a bit.” He nodded.

After that, the funeral continued in mostly silent solemnity.

The RED Medic had been right. Burning them was a bad idea. We pretended not to notice him vomiting off to the side, and I think most of us envied the Pyro for having a mask to keep the foul, oily smoke out. After that, we covered the rest of the bodies we couldn’t bury with a thin layer of dirt—not enough to do good, but enough to feel as though we’d done a duty—and called it a job done.

My Sniper settled his arm around me and looked at everyone. “So. Who wants to get out of here? Some of us have had a plan going, but... ah... well, actually, a few of those people are...”

“Dead.” The RED Scout hugged himself. “They’re dead. Dead, dead, dead. Man...”

“Most everyone’s been teleported in recently.” Stone said. “You’ve been here from the start, or thereabouts. You got a van?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s two.”

“And twelve of us.” The Engineer scratched his head again. Well, if you can put five in each van, and I take one more in the pickup...”

“Bit cramped. Four and four and four’d be better, if there’s anyone doesn’t mind the bed of your truck.”

“I don’t mind.”The Demoman shook his head.

Soldier nodded. “A real man doesn’t need cushy, girly comforts like a seatbelt. Or a seat. Or a roof. Hell, you sissies in your vans, a real man could walk! But... the back of a truck’ll be fine.”

They regarded each other warily for a moment, and the Demoman extended his bottle. “Friends again? Not much point in fighting now, is there?”

“... Hell. Why not?”

“I will ride in one of the vans.” Spy sniffed, casting a disparaging look on the now-heavily-drinking pair.

“Right.” Our Engineer nodded. “Pyro, how ‘bout you ride up front with me? Now, I guess you boys each take one spy, one scout, then one of you gets the doc and one of you gets—“

“Nyet.” The Heavy shook his head, meaty hand settling once more on his medic’s shoulder. “Doktor stays with me.”

I lifted a questioning eyebrow. The Medic shook his head, slightly bewildered.

“Guess both scouts can ride with us.” My Sniper sighed. “They’ll be in the back, anyway, won’t be too troublesome.”

“Aw, no. I’ll take a scout, you can keep both spies.” Stone whined. Well, I doubt he would have admitted it was a whine, but the emotion behind it was very... very whiney.

“I’m hurt. And after I brought back all the answers.”

“Yeah, great timing with that.”

The Scouts, however, were already deep in conversation with one another, and apparently had fast become friends.

“Looks like you’re stuck with him, mate.” My Sniper chuckled. “Get in the back and keep your bloody cleats off my bed, kiddos.”


	2. Journey Out of Darkness

We caravanned to the nearest rest stop, gassed up the vehicles, and bought some food, water, and maps.

“There’s a bus station,” The Engineer pointed it out on the better of the maps. “Once we all get there, everyone can split off and go their separate ways, get home. Y’all have ideas as to where you’re headed?”

“I have a cousin,” The Medic nodded. “He’s lived for the last twenty years in a small town not too far from Bern. The last we spoke, he mentioned... the town’s doctor is retiring. People will have to go all the way into the city. Which is not so terrible, but I could take over the practice, if I moved there. And after all, we have the back pay, it will not be difficult to fly there, buy a house, establish myself. My cousin is well-respected, if he vouches for me... It could be a new life. And Swiss German is not too different from Swabian.”

There was a moment in which he noted all the blank stares he was now receiving.

“It is a regional dialect. Ugh, dummkopfs...”

“Should be nice there.” The Heavy nodded. “I have not thought about where to go. No family to go back to...”

“Well... you could always—I mean, while you think it over, you could... visit Switzerland. While you are thinking.”

“I like that.” He clapped the other man on the back.

I raised my eyebrow at the Medic again, addressing him in a low whisper. “You’re sure?”

“I was sure, he is not!” He whispered back. “I mean... I thought I was sure... wasn’t I?”

I shrugged. “Either you were wrong, or it is still better than nothing, or you’ve just signed yourself up for hell.”

“I know.” He pushed his glasses up his nosebridge. “Such is ever the way.”

“Well, from the bus station, won’t be too hard to get home.” The Demoman smiled cheerily for a moment. “Ah, mum’ll throw a fit over me being out of work. Still got one job, but I’ll have to look for summat else, or hear about how my dad held down twenty-six jobs in his prime, and me still with a working eyeball.”

“I just can’t believe the war is over...” Soldier shook his head, looking rather pathetic.

“I know!” Demo grabbed Soldier’s arm. “I know what we’ll do wi’ you, lad! Now, first, you come and stay at the house while we get everything together... we got to get everything together... An’, we’ll get weapons! An’ we’ll get bombs! An’ you, you’re goin’ to Vietnam. That’s the new thing! That’s the new war!”

“Yeah.” Soldier nodded. “Yeah, that just oughta... It’ll be just like Korea, right?”

“... I donnae see why not. They’re both... in Asia!”

“Yeah! And you’re coming with me, buddy. You and me, we’re gonna bomb the hell out of the whole continent!”

“Ye’re only goin’ to war with Vietnam, though.”

“It’s called a preemptive strike!”

“... I am just drunk enough to be inclined to agree with you. Now promise you’re not taking advantage of a poor drunken man and foisting bad ideas off on me...”

“I promise. This is the best idea I have ever had, and you’re the one who had it!”

“All right!” He roared, sloshing more moonshine all over the maps, despite the Engineer’s hasty attempts to save them.

“How ‘bout you boys?”

The Scouts, sitting next to each other, were practically vibrating with excitement. Or possibly with Bonk!... I swear they dropped half their back pay and carried out every can the little rest stop had.

“Guess what!” The BLU Scout exploded. “Donny and me—“

“Yeah, me and Vinny—“

‘Donny and Vinny?’, my Sniper mouthed. I snickered.

“Our moms live, like, right next door! We’re neighbors!”

“Yeah, we’re gonna go home and we can take the same bus, we’re gonna see our moms,”

“They’re gonna bake us so many cookies!”

“We were in a real live war, girls are gonna be so all over us, too!”

“And we got so many stories for the guys—“

“—brothers are gonna be so jealous!”

The Engineer glanced over at me—well, I think. He still hadn’t taken off his goggles. “You got a plan?”

“... I was thinking, somewhere south of Paris...”

“North of Vichy.” My Sniper shrugged, and this time, his arm settled not around my shoulders, but around my waist.

The others stared, not all at once, but a slow slide of attention towards us. My Sniper gave off an air of nonchalance, but I could see—and in several cases, feel—the tensed muscles, and I saw his eyes behind his glasses, hard and nervous and waiting.

“All right.” The Engineer nodded. “Bet it’s real pretty out there.”

“You said you weren’t queer!” The RED Scout—Donny—protested.

“Yeah, an’ guess what?” My Sniper smirked at him.

“... You lied?”

“And my boyfriend could still kick your bloody ankle-biting arse. I’d welcome anyone who’s got a problem to take it up with me, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if anyone who took it up with me wound up with a chronic case of a knife in the back. I’m just saying...”

I leaned against him. “That was... I’m not sure if ‘romantic’ is the word, cher... but, I am not sure that it isn’t.”

“I aim to please.”

“Yes, well, you do that very well, too.”

“Uh...” Stone coughed. “Anyway, that’s them, which I’d like to point out, is different from us. So there’s no confusion. I’m thinking I’ll end up... aw, dunno. Somewhere. Head back to Australia.”

“Hm.” Spy nodded. “You know, it is one of the only two continents I have never visited... I always thought I might someday. Just so I could say I had had the complete experience, you know. I’m sure Antarctica is unnecessary...”

“One place on earth big enough to hold the both of us and not drive one or the other to homicide.” Stone snorted.

“I take it you’re not offering to play tour guide, then?”

“Are you kidding? I’d shove you headlong into the first thing we come across that might kill you. If you touch the radio in the van again, you won’t make it to the airport, neither.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Spy grinned.

“Idiot.” I rolled my eyes.

“Well, I figure it won’t be too long a trip from the bus depot back home to Bee Cave.” The Engineer interrupted. “Pyro?”

“... drnno. Rhh... Rhh hrvn grh nrwhrrh rh ghr.”

“Well, you just ride with me, then, son, ‘cause if there’s one thing always needs doing in Texas, it’s a controlled burn.”

“Yrh mrn fuhrr?” He sounded almost hopeful. I guess it’s fun again, or whatever. Ugh.

“Yup. What they do is, they go out and light up a big area of brush, then keep an eye on it ‘til it’s all burned out. Gotta go in every so often and clear a nice area that way so you don’t have wildfires spreading all over the place come summer. Not that it stops ‘em... but I guess it cuts it down some. Could be a nice steady job for someone with your talents.”

We couldn’t see his face, but I think we all got the feeling the Pyro was smiling.

 

\---/-/---

 

The nearest bus depot was still too far from the gas station. Instead of driving all night, someone in the caravan pulled off the road, and before I knew it, the ‘wagons’ were circled, and we were all sitting, or standing, around a campfire with our rest stop foodstuffs.

There was a strange sort of camaraderie, considering how so many of us had only recently been trying to kill each other. The Demo and Soldier were still drinking together, reminiscing and planning a whole new field of rampaging destruction. The two scouts were running around with a baseball. The Engineer was having what appeared to be a pleasant conversation with the Medic and Heavy.

Stone was sprawled out in the dirt by the fire, next to the Pyro, the pair of them watching it burn. Spy, leaning against the other van, was watching Stone.

“You could sit.” My Sniper pointed out.

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, here,” He snorted, taking off his vest and laying it on the ground. “Ya big pooftah.”

“Well... yes.” I rolled my eyes, taking the offered seat at his side. I did refuse a sip of his coffee, also bought at the little last-chance gas station and market, and by now long-cold. It seemed fairly terrible.

“Temperature’s gonna drop,” The Engineer said, raising his voice. “Or already started to. We might want to think about putting out that fire and piling into the vans.”

Piling... into? Dear, we were going to be stuffed like sardines. Locking the scouts out in the cold was probably going to be frowned upon, too. Ah well, I suppose I can last one night sleeping next to my Sniper and still behaving myself.

The Pyro made a disappointed sound as he helped put the fire out.

“Now, sleeping in the bed of the truck isn’t going to do much good against potential exposure, so I suggest you fellas bunk in with the guys in the campers.” The Engineer continued. “Me, I don’t mind sleeping in the front seat... I got a good heavy jacket I can sleep under. Pyro?”

“Rrhl brkrh. Srhtsh wrr.”

“Well... whatever you want, then.”

Soldier tottered after us when we returned to our van, the Demoman following Stone.

“How’s this going to work out?” The BLU Scout looked between us all, then at the not-overly-substantial space.

“Well. I got one bed in the back, and I plan on sleeping in it.” My Sniper crossed his arms.

“Oh... oh man. Vinny,” The RED Scout turned to his friend, looking visibly shaken. “We sat on that bed earlier.”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t think that means we get to call it now.”

“I will be sleeping in the front seat, while you ladies argue. Wake me up when you need to drive the thing.” Soldier grunted, waving us off dismissively and trying several times to open the front door of the van. Eventually he succeeded, and we could hear him snoring almost immediately.

“No.” The RED Scout shook his head. “Do you know what they used that bed for? Because I’ve seen them do it.”

“Tsch. You saw them? Dude, that’s so gay.”

“Shut up!”

They scuffled briefly.

“I vote we leave them outside.” I said.

“If they freeze to death, Truckie’s gonna blame us.”

“Fine. Boys!” I snapped, gaining their attention—such as it was. “I am sure that the sheets have been changed since the... incident you mentioned.”

“Ah...” My Sniper scratched the back of his neck.

“Dude! Seriously?”

“Maybe they have been! I don’t own another set. Can’t remember if they made it in laundry day...”

“Had I but known. I would have brought some.”

“Yeah. I don’t see me owning silk sheets.” He rolled his eyes.

“You’ll get used to them.” I said confidently, climbing into the back of the van and, after toeing my shoes off and lining them up carefully, into his bed.

He got in after me with a sigh, kicking his own boots off and letting them land wherever. He tossed his vest and hat onto the one seat in the camper section and stole his pillow back from me.

“You boys can go ahead and find some floor space.” He offered, his arm slipping around me.

I rested my head against his shoulder. “You can try, anyway.”

They grumbled a little, but scouts are small, and they managed to curl into the available space.


	3. Stronger Since the War

“Shh,” I kissed my Sniper’s cheek and pointed him towards the two sleeping scouts. “Look.”

“Hm? Wuzzat?” He blinked, turning his head. “Are they... cuddling?”

“They don’t have a blanket. It must have gotten cold enough. I wish I had a camera... they will deny this moment until they are both blue in the face. Photographic evidence would be a nice thing to have for the next time I hear muttered imprecations about my sex life.”

“Aw, let ‘em sleep.” He rolled onto his side and tugged me close. “I think we’re really getting out this time...”

“Yes.”

“Can’t believe we are, and I’m actually running off to France with you.”

I smiled. “I’m glad you are.”

“I don’t speak the language. Closest thing is I think I’ve managed to pick up a few swears.”

“That’s all right. You don’t need to go out anywhere. I’ll keep you tied up in my bedroom all day.”

“As if you could keep me tied up.”

“I bet I could. I bet I’d do a better job of it than you would...”

“I happen to be very good at knotwork.” His face was right next to mine. I bumped my nose into his.

“I happen to be very good at getting out of things.”

“We might have to settle this bet one of these days.” He grinned.

“Cher, I look forward to it...”

There was a loud yawn from the floor. “Are you cockfags done being gay yet?”

I sat up. “I’m sorry, snugglebunny, would you like to repeat that question? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of how adorable you were being, with your arms around your little friend there.”

“Shut up! It’s cold! You guys got a blanket, and we slept on the floor.”

There was a rap on the door to the camper.

“Well... probably time to roll out, hey.” My Sniper stretched, his back popping. He grabbed his things, pulled his boots on, and met the Engineer outside to go over the day’s travel itinerary.

The itinerary which consisted of ‘drive along the highway until you hit the bus depot’, as far as I know. There’s not much else out here.

I slid out after him, climbing into the passenger’s seat as my Sniper unceremoniously dumped Soldier out onto the ground.

“What? WHAT? Where’s the fire?! Are we under attack?”

“Getting ready to leave.”

“... Right. I’ll just go—the truck... Yeah.” He shook his head and wandered off. I think he really is lost now that the war is over. I think he really did want us to be under attack just then.

“You lucky bastard.” Stone growled, striding up to my Sniper.

“What’s the matter?”

“You had the scouts. I had that bloody Demo and a Heavy. I had to sleep in the front, because they both snore, and then that bloody spy winds up in front with me because he can’t sleep with them snoring either, and the Medic’s complaining about how he spent last night, even though he at least got a bed, and I swear, I am going to kill that spy, did I mention him? Because I’m gonna kill him.”

“Bon chance.” I snorted. “It will be long overdue.”

“This morning, he used my mug. The mug which is mine. He—What do you mean, long overdue? As much trouble as he was when we were trying to work out an escape plan before, I don’t think it would’ve done much good.”

“He told me once you had been hired to kill him.” I shrugged.

“Really? Huh. I guess I just assumed it was the RED Spy. I mean, at the time it wasn’t anybody. I mean, at the time, we weren’t... I never thought I’d wind up on the same bloody side as someone I was supposed to kill. Well. I may finally make good on that.”

There was another small fire before we moved out, that people breakfasted over. I saw Spy drinking tea out of Stone’s coffee mug. Watched from across the little circle as they exchanged words. Harsh words.

The scouts were zipping around again, burning off as much energy as they could before we would all be stuck in the van for hours on end, and I watched them for a moment before the sounds of a real fight broke out.

The Engineer and the Heavy broke the fight up, though I noticed that Spy was the only one who seemed to suffer any bruises. Stone didn’t seem to have been hit at all.

“Maybe we should trade someone around.” My Sniper sighed.

“I’ll talk to him. Idiot.” I stalked over, grabbing my fellow spy’s arm. “What is the matter with you?”

“With me? I didn’t start the fight.” He dabbed at his split lip and failed to cover his odd little smile with a convincingly injured look.

I dragged him around the other side of the van, checked out of the corner of my eye to see that Stone had moved away.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Maybe I provoked him.”

“Are you trying to get him to kill you?”

His smile dropped, his eyes growing sad and faraway. “Maybe. Maybe... I don’t even know. It is something. You know, he makes it clear enough that I will never have what you have, there is no point even in my trying, but at least he—“

“Don’t.” I snarled. “Don’t you dare say ‘at least he notices me’, that is juvenile and stupid, and—“

“No. At least in a fistfight, he touches me.”

“... That is a little sick, isn’t it?”

He touched his split lip again. “It is. I know. It’s about as far from a kiss as you can get, but I would still rather have that then have nothing at all. Besides... the odds are that someone will kill me. Maybe it is more than just a little sick, but he’s my first choice.”

“This is the most idiotic thing I have ever been party to. If you do this, this stupid, stupid thing again, I will... I will put a stop to it.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

I left him, wound up cloaking to sneak up on the conversation between Stone and my own Sniper, just cigarettes and grievances and long stares into the distance.

“I got no idea what his problem is. I don’t know how you put up with being in a relationship with one. I mean, yours is the less annoying of the two, to be fair, but...”

I stayed very still and hoped he wouldn’t do that pseudo-psychic thing of his where he knows I’m there. I wanted to hear what his answer might be.

He shrugged, flicking his cigarette to the ground. “Dunno. He’s cute, when he’s not being a bloody suave superspy. Under the mask.”

“Didn’t even know there was an under the mask.” Stone chuckled.

“Well... I guess I got history with my Spy, just a little. Or, hell, maybe you should try it with that idiot, it might shut him up, make him easier to handle.”

Stone’s expression flattened. “I don’t—“

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t do men. Gotcha.”

“No. I don’t... with anybody. Don’t see how you do. I mean... The fewer people I can have any kind of attachment to, the better it is for me, right? It’s not just a question of would I with another bloke, it’s that I don’t, with anyone. Used to being alone, at any rate, it’s not exactly a hardship to get by on my own. But the last one night stand I had...”

“Yeah?”

“Gorgeous girl. Tourist-type. Met her... ah, dunno where. It wasn’t even a one-night stand, it wasn’t even a half an hour. Think she liked the accent. Think she was shy about being touched. She wasn’t shy about—well, she wasn’t shy about some other things. We wound up fooling around in her hotel room, and after I left I was thinking about her eyes for a week. I blew a shot—dammit, you know which shot it was, too? That was when I was supposed to take out that bloody spy, and here I am thinking about some girl who took me back to her hotel room and blew me and kicked me out, and her eyes are just the bluest eyes you ever seen...”

“Oh, yeah.” My Sniper nodded, tone casual. “Sure, nothing’s distracting like a pretty pair of blue eyes, gotcha.”

“Anyway, after that, I figured best thing to do would be cut out the one night stands as well.”

“Sounds practical, but awful.”

“I do all right.”

I decloaked, startling Stone, who ought to have been able to see me just barely, had he cared to pay the attention. My own Sniper just chuckled.

“That was a private conversation.” Stone glared at me.

“I only just arrived.” I lied, placating.

My Sniper snorted. “Course ya did, darlin’. You sort your friend out?”

“He’s hardly a friend. Still... try not to let him provoke you.” I said to Stone. “He does it on purpose.”

“Yeah, by this point I figured it had to be.”

“He does it on purpose so you’ll rough him up.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, Stone’s jaw working. “He likes being beaten up?”

“He likes having you beat him up. No, not... He likes you. And he is stupid. And he is used to taking risks, and he is resigned to the fact that the retirement plan for spies is not a good one, and he is resigned to the fact that you will never take an interest in him, and probably when you fought after my little adventure with imprisonment, you pushed him up against a wall or something and he decided he liked it, I don’t even know. But he’ll keep pushing you until you do kill him... unless you learn to ignore him. It shouldn’t be much longer, anyway. You can get away from him at the bus depot, or at an airport.”

“He... Sorry, what?”

“It shouldn’t be that surprising. I mean, look at me.”

“Yeah, but—That isn’t—I don’t--!”

“But, he is, like me a little. That is how I blackmailed him. He fell for you when you were supposed to be killing him.”

“How’d he even know? Was I that bad?”

“Or he was that good. Hard to imagine with the way he is acting now, I know. Anyway, it no longer matters that I was not replaced back at the base, and hopefully if you know why he is doing all this, you... I don’t know. At least you know.”

He shook his head. “I don’t do this sort of thing.”

“Yes. He knows. It seems to have made him crazy. But he knows.”

“You could. I don’t mean it has to be with him!” My Sniper held his hands up. “I just mean, you could retire. We all have enough, don’t we? You could meet a girl, if that’s what you want.”

“Wouldn’t know what to do with myself without the job, mate.” Stone shrugged. “You have fun being retired, but me... I don’t know, I couldn’t.”

“Well, try not to make a mess out of his brains. Whatever is left of them...” I sighed.

Stone regarded me curiously for a moment. “Hey... you said the other spy’s like you that way. Is that what you meant before, talking to the RED Medic?”

I shook my head. “I am not at liberty to say.”

“So yes. Him and our Medic both, reckon. Don’t bother lying, I knew about ours.”

“You knew?” I... may have gaped a bit. “I hadn’t even known about our Medic.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn’t always on your team, I worked with him before. Shoulda recognized that was him... Back on the old team we were part of, everyone knew about him and the Heavy. I mean, no one ever said anything, but we all knew. I shoulda seen it. If I knew it was him, we could’ve stopped him, I would’ve known what he was up to...”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean... even if you had recognized him, even if you had realized what he planned to do... it would have been wrong to stop him.”

“He bloody killed himself! I coulda—“

“It would have been cruel. In his mind, he was already a dead man. He did not lie to us and walk away... the words, ‘I will rejoin you in a moment’, those words were not for us.”

“Come on,” My Sniper took my elbow gently. “Looks like everyone’s getting ready to go.”

“Better get back, then.” Stone nodded. His gait as he headed back to his own van was odd, stilted. As though he was not sure he wanted to get there very soon.

My Sniper leaned me up against the side of the van and kissed me, long and deep.

“What was that for?” I blinked, dazed. “Not that I didn’t appreciate it...”

“That was for being you, probably. Just ‘cause I wanted to, doesn’t have to be for anything. And maybe ‘cause... ‘Cause I wouldn’t want you doing something stupid if I didn’t make it.”

“Then I suppose I shall have to promise not to do anything stupid.” I smiled, drawing him back into another kiss. “You are so strange...”

“How am I strange?”

“You make your life showing no emotion, you do not say much, and yet somehow, I think, your heart is on your lips...”

A brief little kiss. “Well. Guess it’s not a bad place for it to be.”

“No. I find your lips a very fine place to be indeed.”

“Ga-ay.” One of the Scouts ran past, the other on his heels.

“We’re ready to go, already!”

“Yeah, yeah, get in the van.” My Sniper sighed, releasing me and heading for the driver’s side door.


	4. That Certain Something

The minute we had pulled into the bus depot parking lot, I saw the other spy striding towards our van, and by the time I was on my feet and closing the door behind me, he was jabbing a finger in my chest.

“YOU! You TOLD! Don’t even—I can tell, he looks at me like he’s sorry for me and I would rather be dead than have him pity me, but of course, no, you think you know what’s best for everyone, well this is not best! Because we are not you, and you are an idiot!”

The others were gathered around staring now. Well, it was hard to tell with the Pyro, he could have been looking at anything. It’s possible the Engineer wasn’t looking at us, either, but not likely. I suppose it’s hard to tell with Soldier as well... But most of the group was definitely staring now.

“Stop making a scene.” I batted his hand away. “You are only embarrassing yourself.”

“Oh no, my friend, I cannot possibly embarrass myself any further than you have already—already shamed me!”

The few dead-eyed travelers in the depot were also staring now, gathering around to watch the two nearly-identical men in masks and incongruous three piece suits shout at each other. A short boy with a raincoat slung over his duffel bag whispered to a plump, redheaded girl whose luggage tag said ‘Kathy’.

“Just try to calm yourself. We are conspicuous enough, don’t you think?”

“His hatred I would have endured, but his pity I will not stand.”

“Well, after today, you never have to see him again.”

“Why, you—“

“Stop it.” Stone yanked back on the other Spy’s jacket. “I would’ve been happier not knowing, but he figured it was for your own bloody stupid good when he told me. You don’t want pity? Fine. No more pity. Go buy your bus ticket and get.”

Spy blinked, swallowed, looked around for the first time at the small crowd that had been staring. Then, he drew himself up, smoothed his jacket, produced a cigarette, and shot a look of withering contempt at everyone in the immediate vicinity. The contemptuous look faltered only once, when his eyes passed over Stone.

There was a moment, a frisson, and I prepared for another fistfight to break out between them. I wouldn’t intervene if it did, I had done my part.

“You bastard.” Stone whispered.

“What?”

“You know what. You—you know what. I can’t believe you.”

“Are you going to haul off and hit me again?”

“I would, but I’m afraid you’d enjoy it.”

“No. Not this time.” Spy shrugged. “This time I deserve it.”

Stone just shook his head and walked away.

Spy crumpled, watching him go, whispered a soft, sad “It was good for you, too.”

 

\---/-/---

 

The ride from the bus depot to the airport was a tense one. It was just one bus, and there was only one airport, and those of us who were flying out of the desert tout-suite were all on it together, which meant that at one end of the bus there was the other spy, curled in on himself and brooding, and at the other end there was Stone, shoulders tight, eyes straight ahead.

I did my best to ignore them, to ignore the two scouts bouncing in their seat, to ignore the loud laughter of the Heavy across the aisle.

I thought about one thing and one thing only, the man wedged in next to me. On the floor, under the seat in front of us, was a duffel bag holding almost everything that had been in his camper. I no longer owned anything that was not on my person.

The landscape whizzed past us out through the window. I leaned my head against his shoulder and pretended to sleep, so that it wouldn’t look too strange to the few people on the bus who were not in our party. The short boy and plump girl from the station, who sat behind us and whispered, and I imagine it was the balaclava that gave it away when I overheard her suggest that I was most definitely a spy, but her boyfriend merely laughed about it. What he thought I was, I couldn’t say, but apparently he finds the idea of a masked man on a bus not too far outside the ordinary.

I listened to them for a while, for lack of anything better to do while feigning sleep, the heartbreaking raw confessions of young love, and I thought about saying something, anything, to my Sniper. I did not, of course, and we would have all the time in the world later.

 

\---/-/---

 

At the airport, we parted ways with the Scouts, who found a domestic flight leaving in not too much time. For international flights, it looked like the rest of us would be there a little while.

Stone and the other Spy were still keeping their distance from each other, and from the rest of us. At one point, my Sniper went to buy... whatever one buys in an airport. Newspapers and chewing gum, I don’t know. I turned to the Heavy.

“So. Why are you going to Switzerland?”

He shrugged, the movement slow, as though he had only half decided to do so. “Doktor doesn’t mind. He is good friend. Everyone says, ‘Heavy Weapons Guy, he is big, and his English is not so good, and he is probably very stupid’. Okay. I am not so good at English. I am not so good at playing chess—“

“Ach, don’t listen to him. He will, what is the term, fleece you.”

“For a Russian, am not so good at chess.” Another shrug, a sly grin. “But, doesn’t make me stupid. And Doktor, he is very smart man, but he does not treat me like I am complete idiot.”

The Medic blushed. I suspected he had at first, and merely been the only one to realize the mistake, if only because most medics I had known shared a tendency towards intellectual superiority complexes. Then again, with this one, it was possible he had had a little crush from the start. Strange, yes. Incomprehensible, but of course. Possible? Possibly.

“I never really expected you to be that smart.” I admitted.

“No one does.” He laughed. “This is old news to me. Besides, you are spy. Spies are snooty.”

The Medic chuckled a little at this. I suppose it was only fair, I’d been thinking the same thing about him only a moment ago.

“I never really expected the Pyro to be that smart, either.” I said. “I don’t know if he is, but for a freakish, fire-happy mutant, I will say he proved himself to be rather perceptive.”

“Tell me, before you got to know any of us, who did you expect might be ‘that smart’?” The Medic challenged.

“Well...” This was fair. My opinion of my fellow spies was not necessarily very high when it came to matters of intelligence, either. “Medics, anyway. I mean, you must be, to... become a medic. The Engineer, despite his accent and his ridiculous mannerisms. Simpletons don’t build teleporters. I suppose aside from those two classes... no one. Then my Sniper turned out to be. Well, he turned out to be a lot of things. He turned out to be mine. So... I suppose after that maybe I tried a little more to... to not write everyone off. A little.”

“Then maybe he is good for you.” The Heavy snorted.

“Oh, I imagine so.”

“Is funny... back home, this would not be allowed. But, still, I think, if he is good for you, then he is good for you. Is not so different from a woman who is good for you.”

“No. But vive le difference.” I smirked. “You know, I believe it is allowed in Switzerland. Not that I am suggesting anything, of course...”

“Of course.” The Medic said tightly.

“Hm. Will keep this in mind.” The Heavy nodded.

The Medic looked startled at this. I just smiled.

The other spy wandered past, ticket clutched in his hand, wearing a haunted look, and I grabbed his arm and yanked him down into the chair at the end of the row of seats.

“Where are you flying into?”

He looked down at the ticket. “Italy.”

“Not Aus—“

“No. And that’s your fault. I like Italy. It is nice this time of year. And... and I don’t know anyone there. It will be nice, to not know anyone. I doubt I will settle down there, but it’s a start. It’s a place to be.”

Stone joined the group again, though he took the farthest possible seat from the spy, and cast quick, furtive, mistrustful looks in his direction.

After a moment, the other spy reached up, pulling off his balaclava. Aside from having the same general face shape, beneath the masks we are not quite the same. I have a small mole that he does not, he has a very close Caesar haircut and what looked like a dueling scar. I caught Stone staring at him with the balaclava off, but he did not seem to notice.

My Sniper returned, with a small armload of newspapers and candy bars, a cup of coffee, and a pack of cigarettes. He did a quick double take, then sat next to me.

“I like you better.” He said. “You’re the cute one.”

“Thank you.” I picked up Le Monde. “Thank you.”

“Figured you’d want an excuse not to make conversation. Goodness knows I did... See no one’s killed anyone yet.” He tossed candy bars at the rest of the group, then picked up his own paper. “Scouts catch their plane to Boston?”

“They did. I’m surprised they didn’t fly there under their own power...”

“Not strange they’d be excited. Probably never flown before. Not if they took the train out when they joined up.”

“Yes. I suppose so... I hadn’t really thought about, you know, not flying. I mean, not having ever flown. It’s sort of... par for the course, with the job.”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “The jet-setting international superspy.”

“Oh, quiet, you. You must have flown before.”

“Well, yeah. Take too long to go by boat, mark could be long gone by the time you get there. Some jobs air fare was more than the actual paycheck...”

Conversation tapered off, a comfortable silence falling between us, providing a small cushion from the uncomfortable silence that stretched out thin between Stone and the other spy.

Eventually, the flight for Italy left. Some hours after that, so did the flight to Switzerland. We were at the airport most of the night, but finally we boarded our plane.


	5. They're a Weird Mob

\---Six Months After The Fact---

 

“The mail came.” I set the mail and the food down on the kitchen table, before joining him in the living room, where he made room for me on the little sofa without opening his eyes.

“Anything interesting?”

“A few things. You got a letter... well, most of it is to both of us, actually.”

“Read ‘em to me?”

I sighed. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yup.”

“All right. ‘Hey, Chuckleheads’—Oh, I’m sure you can guess who this one is from—‘Guess you took a minute out of being super gay in France and everything to write a letter so I thought I’d return the favor’—charming, isn’t he?”

“Well, what do you expect?”

“I know. ‘Me and Vinny are going into the minor leagues’—Minor leagues? What does this mean?—'and probably none of your snooty fancy French newspapers talk about that kind of thing in the sports section. What kind of sports do they play over there? Not baseball, I guess. Anyway, me and Vinny are fighting a little ‘cause we both want the same nickname’—Is it just me, or does that sound stupid?”

“Course it sounds stupid. He write anything else?”

“Oh,” I scanned the letter. “Their mothers are all right—even Vinny’s, who was apparently heartbroken for a little while over the death of the RED Spy. Well, one of them. You know. One of his brothers is getting married to a lovely girl and he’s the best man even though he’s the youngest. He seems quite proud of that. He says it’s okay, and I quote ‘I guess and all’, if we keep up a correspondence, because, and again, I quote ‘we were in a freaking war together and that’s something’.”

He chuckled softly. “Cute. What else?”

“One from Switzerland. ‘I see you took the trouble of tracking me down. Things are going well, though I sometimes fear I was not cut out to be a village doctor (Mischa says I am being silly and am an excellent doctor, but Mischa is biased just a little). I don’t care for children. I mean, of course I care for children, as per my job, but I don’t like them and they don’t like me. I’m not overly fond of treating illnesses. The saving grace of this job is that there will always be stupid young men,’”

“Yeah, guess that’s the truth.”

“Mm. ‘And they break a leg, or an arm, in a foolish attempt to impress some girl, and then they are brought to me. It would be the simplest matter to heal them, in mere moments, with no effort, with no pain. This, I do not do. Stupidity should be painful. How will they learn not to do foolish things if their wounds just mysteriously heal? So I am slow and... careful in setting broken bones. I am happy to report that I get few repeat customers!’—So, he’s about as sadistic as you remember?”

“Sounds right.”

“One more letter.” I waved it. “This one’s just addressed to you, not to me.”

“Let’s hear it.” He waved me on.

“Stone, I think. ‘Sounds like you settled in nicely. I’m doing all right out here. Work’s steady. Still the black sheep of the family, but it’s a small price to pay, isn’t it? And I did think a little about what you said. Come to an arrangement with someone, actually. Understands my work, and doesn’t expect much, but there’s a casual physical availability which it turns out is better than nothing, and I haven’t been distracted by it. Anyway, I’m posting this from the Mercure Grosvenor, which is a bit weird, because if anything I’m usually in a motor inn’—A motor inn?” I made a face.

“’S practical.”

“Right. I really need to break you of the habit of seeing living in a van as a reasonable way of life.”

“Well, your silk sheets are a start. Wonder who he’s shacking up with that would be staying in a place like the Mercure Grosvenor.”

“I don’t know it.”

“It’s old and it’s fancy.” He shrugged. “You’d probably love it. So go on, what else?”

“He just says ‘I reckon I’m actually pretty happy with things like they are. With you retired, and everyone else, well, dead, there’s not a whole lot of competition for jobs, and I’ve been picking and choosing more now, since I can afford to, but sometimes I take them just to keep busy. Good luck on fixing up that cottage, I don’t envy you the DIY weekends. I do envy you the reliable indoor plumbing, the Mercure Grosvenor’s the first hot shower I’ve had all week. But the repainting and handiwork I do not wish for in the least. Say hello to your spook.’—Oh, that’s nice.”

“Apparently I’m to say ‘hello’ to you.” He actually sat up at that, eyes finally opening, mouth crooking into a rather wicked smile. “Hello.”

“Knowing Stone, I somehow doubt this is what he meant...” I said wryly, but I had no real complaint when he slid into my lap and began nibbling at my ear. “Well, hello, yourself. You know, I haven’t really put away the things I picked up today...”

“Is any of it going to spoil?”

I thought over the market trip. Bread, a few vegetables... no milk, no meat. “No.”

“Then leave it.” He pulled my shirt off, kissing my throat, my chest. “You smell... really nice, actually... You taste really nice, actually. I’m willing to bet I’d find you really nice, actually, to a few other senses... given half a chance...”

“I’ll give you a whole chance.” I ran my fingers through his hair, mussing it, using it to angle him into a real kiss. “I’ll give you more than a whole chance. How many chances do you want?”

“Well... Think I could get it right on the first one, but I wouldn’t say no to a few... extra... dozen-odd... hundred...”

I melted a little under his continued ministrations, the way his tongue traced over the pulse points of my throat, the way his teeth slid across my skin and his hands covered my torso in firm, sweeping strokes. The way he settled down, grinding against me in ways that were just too teasingly short of enough.

“I believe...” I gasped. “That I was introducing you to the concept of civilization via silk sheets...”

“I believe you were.”

“We should move over there. To bed.”

“Oh, I’m not disagreeing with you.”

He littered the whole trip up the stairs with our clothes, which I would have to remind him to pick up later, because I certainly wasn’t doing it.

Well, it could wait...

We fell into bed, his hands resuming their familiar remapping of my skin, his mouth moving against mine in kisses rife with reckless abandon, and soft sounds he might in sober moments deny making.

This time I was content enough to lie back and let him. The upper hand could always be mine later, we no longer had to live in fear of not having a ‘next time’.

I murmured, soft encouragements I could not keep track of myself, as he thrust into me with a maddening slow regularity, and I pulled every little dirty trick I knew to make him speed up.

When he came first, he pulled out, still slowly, moving down the bed and swallowing me to the root, two fingers sliding into me, working me with more speed this time, and then everything was liquid heat and a slight fuzzy grayness, and he probably thought I was out of it enough not to catch him wiping everything up on the silk sheets that I spent good money on.

Well... I was aware of it. It didn’t occur to me to really be that upset.

I lit a cigarette and padded over to the bedroom window, all too used to the familiar sensation of having my ass ogled as I did so.

Out in front of the house there was a field of lavender. I had never brought any into the house—it was something I vaguely remembered my mother doing once, back before she no longer had the luxury, back when she worried about keeping a nice house instead of worrying about keeping all our lives. I never bothered—we were men, after all, and I somehow doubted he would really appreciate it if I ever cared to do such a thing—but I was glad we had it, out there.

“I should probably start on dinner. I bought zucchini and asparagus. I was going to make soup.”

He sat up. “Yeah?”

“I thought I might. Ah... you know the neighbors?”

“Do I know the neighbours? You mean the people who live nearly five kilometers away and don’t speak any English, those neighbours? No, can’t say I know ‘em well.”

“Their barn cat is pregnant.”

“You’ve already signed us up for two, haven’t you?”

“You’re the one who decided we would name them Pierre and Alice.” I shrugged.

“Fine.” He shook his head, smiling. “You’re the man making dinner.”

Early on, he had tried to point out that he could cook, but ‘I can cook, too, you know’ turned out to be crazy bushman for ‘I am capable of holding meat over fire’, which is not quite the same thing. Also, I am not entirely certain that ‘octopus salad’ is actually a food. So I cook. I do all right with it—I’d spent exactly one month of deep cover work in a small restaurant once, though it was an American restaurant and therefore the standards were not immense, but I can read a cookbook, I can make a few things well, and he constantly reminds me that he’s not a fussy man, even if I am.

And life is comfortable.

And he doesn’t know that I wrote to his mother, and that the soup recipe comes from her.

And... she does not know that I am a man.

But still. We have the house, we have a routine... life is more than comfortable, I think.

Life is good.


End file.
